Page 45 of Zeppelin (Satan’s Angels MC #9)

Ginny

T his position always seemed like the worst one. Some sweaty, hairy man grunting and sweating on top of me, hammering away while I pretend to get something out of it?

Hard pass.

I never liked the idea of being pinned down either. You don’t have to be tied up or blindfolded to have to give up control.

With Zeppelin, it’s different. I asked for this because I craved the connection.

There’s nothing better than being able to look him in the face and see everything that’s going on behind his eyes.

He’s a little bit sweaty, but I love the way our skin sticks together.

I love the weight of him pressing against me.

I don’t feel out of control. I feel safe, guarded, and treasured.

I’m not stifled or suffocated. Not literally, not figuratively.

It breaks my heart and puts me right back together to see the same trust and affection reflected back at me.

This is the first time that I’ll ever do this where I truly get the concept of not knowing where you end and someone else begins.

Zeppelin shifts, adjusting himself, notching his head at my entrance. I want to force him to surge forward, but instead I practice something I’ve always been notoriously bad at patience.

I wait for him to fill me.

He pushes forward slowly, keeping his eyes on my face the whole time. That eye contact is almost unbearably intimate, but it’s also everything . I love the stretch and the burn as my body adjusts to the thickness of him pressing me open.

My head presses back into the pillows and my hips arch up to take more.

“Don’t do this just to prove a point.” He shoots me a cocky look.

I roll my eyes, grasping his shoulders and tugging him down to me. “You seem to forget that I took all of you before,” I murmur against his lips.

“That was standing up.”

I wriggle under him, the movement causing him to utter a low oath before pushing forward another inch. “I think you’ll find that I’m multitalented.”

I was kidding when I said he was normal size, or whatever. I can barely remember my own name at the moment. There’s nothing normal about that length and girth. It might hurt a little, but once my body adjusts, he’s a perfect fit.

I dig my heels into his ass and claw at his back. “More,” I beg. “All of you.”

I basically give him no choice but to surge forward.

He does, filling me so full that my head thrusts into the pillows, my back arches, and my hips get even higher.

He tucks a hand under my ass and drives me up into him as he pulls out and pushes back in slowly.

He doesn’t stop until he’s notched fully inside of me.

All I can do is pant and moan and scratch harder at his back.

I love that he’s so thick that I almost can’t take him. Every thrust feels as though he’s splitting me in half, but I rise up to meet him, hips bucking eagerly. I grind my clit against his pelvis with every stroke, banking the sparks inside of me until they’re a roaring flame.

I let go of him and shove my hands above my head, grasping the headboard. It squeaks with every hard thrust. It’s somehow annoying and also hot as hell, to know that Zep is fucking my form into the mattress.

He slowly drags himself out of me, pulling out.

I bite down on my bottom lip as he tucks his hands under my ass and lifts me, arranging me so that he slides back into a kneeling position.

He swings one leg over mine and palms his glistening cock.

He’s so hard that all the veins stand out along his shaft.

His tip is dark red and engorged. He’s definitely slick enough, and I’m so wet that I’m soaked right to my asshole, but he still leans down and spits on me.

The warm saliva lands right on my clit and he wastes no time massaging it in. “I want to watch you take my cock like a—”

“Don’t say good girl,” I interrupt him. “You can if you want, but I’m not a good girl. I’m sassy and independent, and hard working. I’ll never just do what you tell me to do. I have a will every bit as iron sharp and hard as yours.”

His smile splits his face so wide that even his eyes crease at the corners.

“That’s perfect. You can be my special brand of good girl, full of sass and fight.

And your wit and that big, beautiful brain and heart?

They both far surpass mine.” He strokes his cock with a hard fist before he lines himself up with my entrance.

“Is my perfect girl ready to get fucked so hard that she forgets her own name?”

I know he’ll hold himself back so that there’s zero chance of hurting me. He’s just dirty talking to keep us in the moment. I’m also nowhere near perfect, but I don’t mind being a perfectly imperfect match for him.

He glides inside of me, the stretch and ache brand new in this position.

It’s more intense. Watching him split me in half until he bottoms out inside of me, blows my mind.

If that’s what he meant about forgetting my own name, he’s getting close.

He takes me closer with every slow retreat and every slow thrust back inside.

I shouldn’t be shocked, but I still am when he sticks two fingers in his mouth and gets them good and wet with his own saliva. He circles my asshole on the next thrust and as he fills me with his cock, he slips one in up to the first knuckle.

I was already struggling not to black out from the pleasure of what he was doing, but having that added pressure and all that sensation is fuel on top of the flames. It’s a big, heavy boot slammed down on the gas pedal of a car with too much horsepower.

My head falls back against the pillows, my eyes slamming shut as all the pleasure builds and builds. Flames drench my skin, the heat licking over my whole body. It’s only Zeppelin and the pleasure, me pulsing around him, my body clenching on his cock and finger.

I want to tell him how good it is, but all I can do is breathe and pant, pant and try to breathe.

I gasp and whimper and above me, his groans are torn from him, wild and feral.

I start to pulse around him, not coming, but close, and his cock kicks in response.

He keeps dragging himself out of me and pushing back in.

Every single time, I feel a thousand times fuller.

I love the pain of stretching around him, the way his finger pushes inside of me all the way, adding to the pressure a thousand times over.

I cling to the headboard and hold on as his thrusts inch me up the bed.

I bounce back, seeking more and more. He fucks me hard, over and over, wet and sloppy, sweaty and animal, growling and me whimpering, begging, pleading, loving it beyond anything in the world.

This whole thing has been a lead up to the pleasure, but it still shocks me when my climax breaks over me. There’s no precursor. It’s just full on pleasure, ripping through me, tearing me apart.

I throw back my head and cry out, my hands like talons on the metal bars of the headboard. Zeppelin stays inside of me, letting me come all over his cock, but he fingers my asshole even harder. My body is all tension, electrified and strung too tight even though I’m falling apart.

It doesn’t last long, but it’s the most intense climax I’ve ever had.

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as the pleasure twists me, wrings me out, and bleeds me dry.

I manage to look at Zeppelin, forcing his face to materialize through the haze of moisture.

I get to see him tip his head back as he drags his cock out of me and pushes forward one more time.

I watch his throat ripple with his breath, the veins in his neck and temples straining.

His whole body goes tight, his pecs rigid, his abs zipped into a perfectly chiseled six-pack, veins tight all along his v-muscle as he comes apart.

I watch everything, lovingly caressing his face with my hot gaze, as he fills me up.

The heat of him floods me. I want to close my eyes and let that tip me into more pleasure, but I keep them open, savoring the sight of him lost to his own pleasure.

That means more than any climax could ever mean to me.

Him, finding perfect bliss with me, losing himself to the world because he’s inside of me- that’s special .

It’s ours . It’s the intimacy and connection I was craving.

I love watching him fall apart in his own way. He’s still so strong, but he shivers and trembles with the force of pleasure the same way that he’d tremble from catching a brutal chill. It’s fascinating watching his muscles bunch and flex, then relax when he’s finally able to draw in oxygen.

He pulls out slowly and arranges my legs in a line. He sprawls out right beside me and cups my face, digging his fingers into my hair. “Are you alright?”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. There’s too much emotion, and it’s okay to feel that, but I don’t want to start bawling again, especially because I know that he’ll take it the wrong way and it will just worry him.

He’ll think he hurt me, when in reality he was actually gentle and careful.

It’s not like he tried to drill me into tomorrow, or literally through the wall.

I run my hand through his beard, then stroke his chin, trace his lips, and arch into him to kiss him. I sling my arm around his shoulder and tuck my face into his neck and just stay there, breathing him in.

I press my nose right against his pulse point. It’s beating so much faster than it normally does.

“I love this,” I whisper. “I adore you, I think. I mean, I know, I just don’t know if that’s the right word.”

The low rumble of his laughter vibrates through the entire bed. His hand splays over the back of my head, holding me to him. “It’s a perfect word, Ginny. Whatever you want to say is perfect, as long as I get to hold you like this.”

“I want to stay like this all day,” I confess, even though it makes me so shy that I’m glad I’m hiding my face.

“Can we? You probably have plans with your family.”

“I do, but I can cancel. They’ll understand. It’s mid-week. I’ll make up the time by working doubly hard tomorrow.”

His hand strokes down my back, rubbing small circles between my shoulder blades that make me arch into him just for the sheer pleasure of his touch. He’s always known just how to touch me to make my body light up and sing. His sweetness was the start of my undoing right from the beginning.

He pulls back so he can look me in the face, though he blinks several times like maybe he’s overwhelmed with emotion as well.

I look at him like he’s the sun. I’m half afraid to let him see it, but he stares back at me with the same light and joy in his eyes.

It sends joy sparking through me at a rate that I can’t contain.

I’m sure he can see it leaking out of me in every way.

“Let me help? I don’t want you working twice as hard.

Let me be here. I was thinking about it a lot on the drive back here, and if you’re up for it, I’d like to see if it’s possible to split my time at the club and out here with you.

If you agree, I can sleep in the van while I help you do those renovations I promised, help you with the yardwork, with gardening, with anything you need.

You can even teach me to bake if that makes your day easier. ”

I let out a delighted laugh at the thought of him in the kitchen with an apron tied around his chest and waist, kneading bread.

I sober as that image is followed abruptly by me divesting him of that apron and doing sinfully delightful things to him that would only cause delays and recipe failures. I’m already sore between my legs from the amazing sex, but I swear that a small throbbing sparks back to life.

“You can help me if you want.” It’s easier to agree than I might have thought.

The truth is, I want to work side by side with him.

I want to build a life, learn all about each other, but I’ll also admit that the house isn’t nearly ready to go through winter, or to bring a baby into it.

That’s every bit as important to Zeppelin as it is to me.

As I get further into the pregnancy, even if I’m not sick anymore, I’ll probably be even more exhausted, and some things might be harder with a giant belly to contend with.

I’m no longer afraid to accept Zeppelin’s help. I’m not afraid of letting him into my life.

I set my palm flat on his chest the same way I rested my head there in the living room with the guttering oil lamps casting shadows all around us. This time, it’s not sorrow that stops up my throat, but pure joy.

“Really?” He gives me a full brow tilt of incredulity. “Just like that?”

“If the club agrees and you can make it happen with your work schedule, I’d love to have you out here. Not sleeping in the van, though. I want you sharing this bed. I want to cook with you, work with you, build this house and this life together. I’m done taking anything for granted.”

He nods. “Every single second with you is a blessing. Good or bad, I’m here.”

I tip my face up but leave my hand over his heart.

When he kisses me, it’s more than a stamp of ownership or a sealing of some deal. It’s more than claiming. It’s his heart flowing into me, and mine cascading right back into his, until they’re beating in unison.